Til Death
by Morgause Dresden
Summary: No one is more surprised than Thor when his sister-in-law shows up on the Avenger's doorstep one early Saturday morning. She's different from the meek goddess he knew on Asgard. Angrier. Sad. Determined. The question is, why? LokixSigyn movieverse
1. In the Beginning

Odin's hall was enormous. Dining tables laden with fist-sized grapes and roasted boars stretched into the distance. Lanterns hung from the gilded ceiling in such number that the room seemed to be filled with the light of a thousand brilliant suns. The walls themselves had been carved and painted with scenes from the great legends—one panel showed Odin and his brothers creating Midgard from the corpse of Ymir, the first ice giant. Others depicted the burning of Gullveig, a dragon gnawing on the roots of Yggdrasil, the truce between the Aesir and the Vanir.

Then there were the people. Everywhere, gods and goddesses walked or stood or sat. The men had combed and braided their beards and wore their finest robes or ceremonial armor. The ladies—all beautiful, as goddesses should be—wore glittering gowns. Some flowed in a nonexistent breeze; others had wide collars formed of multicolored feathers or skirts embroidered with precious stones. Their hair had been teased to perfection, their makeup done to astonish.

Sigyn kept her hands folded before her as she followed her mother through the crowd. She twisted the plain silver ring that she wore on the first finger of her right hand—the only jewelry on her person, besides a thin ring of gold that encircled her head—and stared wide-eyed at the wonders of Odin's court. Once, she saw a painting on the wall that depicted the retrieval of the necklace of the Brisings; her mother's necklace, and stopped to get a better look.

"Daughter," Freya barked, once she noticed her daughter's absence from her side. "This is no time for daydreaming." She raised one slender arm and beckoned her daughter to her side. "Do not wander again."

"Yes, mother," Sigyn inclined her head. A wisp of hair tickled the back of her neck.

Freya nodded, and then turned and glided towards the throne of the Allfather once again. His was a large throne, set on a pedestal at the very front of the hall. It was golden, like much of the hall, and carved in the shape of a tree, symbolizing Asgard's branch of Yggdrasil. Odin was a large man—tall and muscular, with a graying beard and a golden eyepatch that covered the scar given him by Laufey, lord of the Frost Giants, many years ago. Sigyn thought that he fit his throne very well.

Beside the Allfather sat Frigga—Queen of Asgard. She was a small woman, dainty and smiling with golden hair that had been twisted around the diamond crusted crown that sat upon her brow. Her dress was made of a million golden scales that glittered and shifted with every breath she took. She sat on a throne much the same as the king's—it was gold, and carved in the shape of a tree—but on this, Sigyn could see that where Odin's had branches, Frigga's had blossoms and leaves.

Freya climbed the steps that led to the thrones and stopped on a platform at Odin's feet. She threw a glance at Sigyn, who had followed her, and together they spread their skirts and curtsied low before the ruler of Asgard.

"Stand, Freya, daughter of Njord," the god inclined his head and smiled widely at Sigyn's mother. Freya rose.

"My lord," she said, gesturing towards Sigyn, "I have come tonight to present Sigyn Iwaldi-daughter."

"Ah," Odin nodded and turned his eye to Sigyn. "You have a good name."

"T-thank you, my lord."

"Stand, and let me have a good look at you."

Sigyn stood and took a step forward, her plain skirts clenched in her fists. She felt herself turn red under Odin's gaze, and it felt as though she stood before him for a century.

Finally, he smiled at her. "Welcome to my court," he said. "I hope that you will return many times." Then, to Freya, "You have a charming daughter. I think she will make a good wife."

A thin smile graced Freya's lovely features. "You and I both, Allfather." She bowed her head and Odin did the same. Then Freya took Sigyn's hand and they retreated back the way they had come.

"He liked you," Freya whispered in Sigyn's ear once they were out of hearing distance. "A good sign."

"A sign of what, mother?" Sigyn pulled her hand from her mother's and brushed it against her skirt again. Freya's fingers were cold, and her nails were sharp.

"Why, if Odin thinks well of you, then it is guaranteed that we shall find you a choice member of the Aesir to marry." Freya paused a moment and regarded Sigyn with cold eyes. "Of course, he would have liked you better if you'd worn the gown I had made for you…" she sighed and waved a hand. "But there's no changing that now. Pray, go and speak to some of the other young goddesses. I will find you when it is time to return to our chambers."

"But—"

Freya glared at her daughter. "Do _not_ argue with me."

"Y-yes mother." Sigyn nodded, and watched her mother sweep away and disappear into the froth of Asgardians. She forced herself to remain standing upright, despite the sudden shiver of fear that twisted in her gut. She had never been among so many people—so many strangers—at one time, and was struck by a sudden wish to get _out._

So, keeping her chin high, Sigyn dove away from the dining tables. She twisted and turned and pushed her way through the mass of people until, to her relief, she found a door.

"Thank the gods," she whispered, and stepped through the doorway into a garden. Many paths twined away from where she stood, each lined with bowers of flowering plants that Sigyn had never seen before, and while she could still hear the music and chattering from the hall, the garden appeared to be silent.

The knot of fear that had settled in Sigyn's stomach lessened somewhat as she walked forward onto one of the paths. A light breeze ruffled her not-quite-golden hair and swept it about her shoulders, carrying with it the sweet perfume of roses and other flowers. As Sigyn walked, she spread her arms so that her fingers brushed the leaves that formed the latticed walls to either side. Then she threw her head back and tried an experimental twirl. Her skirt floated out, away from her legs, and she giggled. Soon, Sigyn was dancing down the paths, so lost her own happy fantasy that she failed to notice the presence of a rather tall, thin man as she turned a corner.

They collided and the two fell together in a tangle of limbs and skirts.

Sigyn landed on her behind with a soft thump. The man was not so lucky—he had been bowled over onto his back.

"Oh, dear," Sigyn half-laughed, still breathless from her dancing. "I'm so very sorry, I didn't see you." She crawled over to the man, who still lay on his back. "Here, are you all right? Let me help you up. Give me your ha—"

"Thank you," the man interrupted her, and sat up. He glared at her with eyes so blue that Sigyn gasped. "But I don't need your help." His voice was quiet and smooth like silk. His hair was dark, and smoothed back in such a way that it seemed to emphasize the pale, pointed contours of his face. His lips were thin, and frowning.

Sigyn looked at him for a moment, held still by those beautiful eyes.

Then she leaned forward and kissed him. It wasn't a real kiss—there was no passion or heat. It was a gentle peck against those thin lips of his.

When she pulled away, he was still staring at her. This time, there was surprise—no, shock—on his face, and his mouth hung open just a bit.

Sigyn smiled at that.

"What-Who are you?" he spluttered, once he had recovered sufficiently.

"Oh," she sighed. "My name is Sigyn, daughter of Iwaldi and Freya. Pleased to meet you." She ducked her head. "And you needn't look so put out about that kiss. You looked as though you needed one. Don't you feel the better for it?"


	2. A Coming Storm

_**Author's Note:** Okay, guys. Sorry this has taken so long. School's been hectic. Anyway, in case you hadn't already noticed, I added a prologue. This chapter is basically the first two combined but chunk of awesome added so I would recommend reading it all over again. I promise I'll be updating more often-I'm going to try to get one in every day this week. Gotta love spring break, right?_

_Hope you like the chapter-feel free to review! I love to hear from you guys!_

* * *

She was small—Tony estimated her height to be around five feet, three inches tall, but it was hard to tell even with his state-of-the-art security cameras—and plump in a well-fed sort of way. Her hair, long and dark, framed her pleasantly rounded face. Her mouth was a bit too wide and her nose a bit too pointed for her to be pretty, but there was something about the eyes that emanated a friendly air. She was dressed casually in worn-looking jeans, gray converse, and an overlarge shirt that bore the words "I heart New York" in large red block letters across the front.

At her feet, his nose pressed against her faded jeans, was a dog. It was a big Alaskan Husky with gray fur and a mouth that hung open to reveal a lolling tongue and two rows of sharp teeth.

The pair would have looked like totally ordinary people if they hadn't been standing on the front porch of the Avenger's Mansion.

If they hadn't just bypassed Tony's security cameras and automated weapons system without causing so much as a blip on Jarvis' radar.

If the girl hadn't just snapped her fingers, opened the very solid, very _locked_ door to the mansion and walked inside.

"Well, crap," Tony muttered, leaning back in his favorite armchair. He touched a corner of the computer screen and a red light began flashing. Tony leaned forward and pressed another button, this time turning on the intercom system that was set up throughout the mansion.

"Boys and…uh…girl," he said, clearing his throat. "We've got a code green."

Green being slang for "a definitely creepy, possibly psychotic person has entered the premises. Prepare for fireworks

* * *

One year—that's how long it had been since Loki's return to Asgard.

One year since he had been disgraced by his brother.

One year since he had been imprisoned.

In all actuality, if anyone had bothered to ask what Loki thought of his prison, he would have told them that it really wasn't that bad. Certainly, his rooms were in the darkest dungeon of the castle, but he had lit the place with magical orbs. They gave off a bright, but faintly green glow that he liked to think seemed menacing to the soldiers that guarded him. His belongings—books, clothing, trinkets and toys—had been shifted from his much more spacious quarters in the eastern wing of the palace to his newer accommodations. Loki has organized those as best he could, but cleanliness had never been high on his list of priorities. The books were stacked half-hazardly against walls or propped against cushions that were strewn over the floor. The clothing and knick-knacks were arranged messily on shelves that had been nailed into the walls.

He was left alone, for the most part. The guards did not speak to him, and other from the occasional visit from the woman that called herself his mother, there was no one. He spent nearly all of his days studying his books or practicing simple magic—simple because the muzzle fastened over his mouth forbade anything more. On very special occasions, if he had been a very good boy that week, his guards would take him for a stroll through the land of the living—to a palace garden, or through one of the galleries of art. Those didn't happen often, usually because he had frightened the maid that brought him dinner or because he had tried to escape, but _really_. What else was there to do? He had to maintain his sanity somehow.

It was a special occasion tonight. Loki had behaved, and so earlier that evening a particularly brutish guard had snapped iron handcuffs over his wrists and they had begun the long climb up the stairs that led from the dungeon to the palace. It was a feast night, and so when they finally reached the ground floor of the palace, Loki was—though he would never have admitted it—very nearly overwhelmed by the number of gods that peopled the hall. Each was adorned in their finest clothing—otherworldly cloths and sparkling jewels were common fare. Loki's guards led their charge through the midst of the crowd. Loki noted the curious glances and whispers with a amusement, and held his head high.

Or he did until he heard a word—a name, in fact. One that he hadn't heard or even thought about in a very long time.

* * *

"Sigyn!" Thor tightened his hold on the woman and lifted her several inches off of the ground. "My sister, how I have missed you!"

Tony and the other avengers stood in a loose semi-circle around the pair. Hawkeye muttered something unintelligible and placed an arrow back in its quiver.

"This," Natasha said, "is the last time you get to do guard duty for a _long_ time, Stark."

"Code green my eye, Tony." Steve pointed at Thor and Sigyn. "That's about as dangerous as Bruce is on Shwarma night."

"Hey!"

"I never said you weren't dangerous, I just said that on Shwarma—"

"Guys." Tony held up his hands. "Sorry I sounded the alarm, but seriously—she looked like a definite Loki type."

"Psh," Hawkeye rolled his eyes. "One of his fangirls. _Maybe."_

"You know what I—"

"FRIENDS!"

The Avengers turned. Thor had set the woman—Sigyn—down and had one of his bulging arms slung around her shoulders. The dog that accompanied the woman was nuzzling Thor's leg.

Thor grinned. "I would like you all to meet my sister—"

"—in-law," the woman interrupted, and grinned sheepishly.

"—Sigyn! And my nephew, Fenrir!" Thor patted the dog's head. "Sigyn, this is Tony, the man of iron. Natasha, the widow, Bruce—he becomes large and green when he is angry, Steve, captain of this America, and Clint the hawkeye."

There was a moment of silence. Then—

"'Scuse me," Clint raised a hand. "Did you just say that the dog's your nephew?"

"Yes." Thor grinned. "The very oldest."

The corners of Sigyn's mouth turned up at the expressions on the Avenger's faces. "Some weird things go on in Asgard," she laughed. "Trust me—you don't want to know."

Another pause, and Bruce took a step forward. "You wouldn't happen to be…um…" he pushed his glasses further up onto the bridge of his nose. "Sigyn, goddess of fidelity and devotion?"

"Yep," Sigyn nodded. "Go on—you can say the rest."

Bruce frowned. "Loki's wife?"

The other avengers took a collective step backwards. The dog at Sigyn's side growled loudly.

"Oh, shush up," Sigyn muttered and patted his head. "Sorry," she looked up and flashed a smile at the group of heroes. "Fenrir's very sensitive, particularly when it comes to his father."

"Where are the others?" Thor interrupted. "Hel? Jormungandr? Sleipnir?"

"Hel had school and Jormun…" Sigyn sighed. "He didn't want to come. As far as I know, Sleipnir's still on Asgard in your father's stable."

"Then—"

"Excuse me!" Tony stepped forward, arms folded over his chest. "Thor, before we let this go any further, I think you need to explain to us what your crazy brother's wife is doing in our house."

"Ah," Thor nodded. "I suppose so." He turned to Sigyn. "Will you stay for dinner?"

Fenrir looked up expectantly, but Sigyn shook her head. "We can't. This isn't a social call, Thor. I have something very important that I need to discuss with you." She looked around. "Alone."

"Sorry, sweetheart," Tony interrupted again, "I don't care how important it is—you don't get alone time with Thor."

Sigyn's eyes flashed. "You dare speak to—"

"Damn straight I dare. You can't just pop in here with your pet dog, get all chummy with our thunder god, then announce that you're Loki-freaking-Laufeyson's wife and expect us to just go along with it! Do you have any idea what that bastard did to—"

"A better idea than you obviously do!" Sigyn shouted. The lights in the foyer flickered and for a moment, Sigyn seemed much taller than she actually was. Tony snapped his mouth shut.

After a moment, the lights blazed bright once again. In the steady light, Sigyn looked perfectly ordinary aside from the fact that she was glaring daggers at Tony.

"Thor," she hissed, "my apologies. I lost my temper."

"Sister…"

"I should not have come here." Sigyn brushed Thor's hand away. "Be wary, my brother. A storm comes from the West." She snapped her fingers and the doors of Avenger's Mansion swung open again. Sigyn turned and, with Fenrir on her heels, swept from the foyer. The doors slammed shut.

"Well," Tony gulped. "That was…"

"Mysterious?" Bruce frowned. "I'll drink to that."

"Actually, I was going to say freaky beyond all reason, but mysterious works too."

"What was that she said?" Natasha asked. "A storm comes from the…"

"The West," Thor answered. He stepped forward. "My friends, we cannot laugh this warning off. Sigyn...she has been missing from Asgard for so long. She would not risk her location being discovered if this were not important. For her to come here personally…" he shook his head.

"We probably should have let her talk," Steve nodded. "If you think what she has to say is important, Thor, we'll listen."

The god shrugged. "It's too late now. She is gone again."

"You're a god. Can't you use your mojo to find her again?" Hawkeye asked.

"I do not have that power. Only Heimdall…" Thor's eyes widened. "I could ask him."


	3. In the Dark

Large Oak, Wyoming was nothing special. It was a small town-the population consisted mostly of ranchers and oil company employees. Main Street consisted of a convenience store, a Subway, several bars, and a rickety video rental store. For the most part, it was a quiet town—in fact, that was the reason SIgyn had chosen it. Large Oak was so totally ordinary that no one would think to look for her there.

And besides, the stars were beautiful. After a long day of work and driving the kids around town, Sigyn loved to slip outside and look up at the sky. It was so different from the sky on Asgard—darker, yes, but at the same time more open. Sigyn loved the way that the stars seemed to glitter like diamonds, and the way that the moon changed shape a little bit every night. There was no moon on Asgard.

She looked at the moon now, and inhaled the cool night air. It was August, and her small garden at the side of the house had already frosted over once. Inside, the children were sound asleep. They had been that way when she'd returned from her trip to the Avenger's new home, all piled together in the front room, Hel in the middle with a tattered copy of Nordic Myths and Legends clutched in her hands. Fenrir, tired after such a long day, had curled up beside Vali and nodded off as well.

Sigyn drew her sweater tighter around her body and sighed. For the first time in centuries, they were happy, and she had risked it all. Why? Because of some silly idea that Thor was family and it was her duty to warn him.

"Bah," she muttered. "You're getting soft."

"Had a rough day?"

Sigyn squared her shoulders and turned around, a smile plastered onto her face. Behind her stood a man—tall, with rather curly yellow hair, wide eyes and a grin so wide it threatened to split his face in half. He wore jeans, a worn blue and white t-shirt with "Snake River Basketball" printed in block letters over the chest, and scuffed brown boots.

"Rick," Sigyn said. "What are you doing here?"

"Had to stay late at the office," Rick said, shaking his head. "One of Marvin's colts has colic. Saw you on the porch and I figured I'd come say hello."

"Hello."

Rick nodded and shifted nervously. His smile faltered. "Actually…" he cleared his throat. "Actually that's not the only reason. I came over earlier this afternoon, but Helen said you were out of town."

Sigyn frowned. "Is something wrong, Rick?"

"Well…well, no. Not exactly. I just had a question to ask you and…"

"What, then?" Sigyn took a step forward. "Is this about the county fair? I already told Miranda that I wouldn't enter."

"Carrie, it's not about the fair." Rick shook his head, and took a deep breath. "Gosh. No, what I'm trying to ask is if you'll go out with me."

Sigyn blinked. "Go out…like…" _courting? _"A date?" Suddenly her mouth seemed very dry. Her eyes flickered down towards her left hand, but there was no ring there. Not anymore.

"Yes. Like a date. I thought…maybe a movie, or we could go into the city and do…well, something. To be honest, I hadn't really thought that far ahead, I just wanted to ask you." Rick shrugged. "You don't have to answer now, really. I know how you feel about the kids and…and things. I understand if you don't want to, but we've gotten along so well these past couple of weeks…"

"Oh…" Sigyn groaned. The man was turning bright red. She wondered if he would have even asked that question if he'd known who he was talking to—Sigyn Iwaldis-daughter, incantation-fetter, goddess of fidelity, wife of Loki and stepmother to some of the most fearsome creatures in the galaxy—instead of just Carrie Christensen, the single mom who had appeared in town almost overnight with her two children and multiple "pets."

Would he still want her then?

Rick cleared his throat. "Carrie, um… I think I'll leave now."

"All right." Sigyn nodded. "For goodness sake, you look like you're about to fall over. I'm not that scary, am I?" She smiled. "Rick, I'm really happy you asked me."

He perked up. "You'll think about it?"

"Yes." She nodded. "I will. Good night."

Rick muttered something and rushed down the porch steps. He practically ran down the walkway to the sidewalk before he turned around, waved, and sauntered down the road.

Sigyn watched him go. Once he was out of sight, her smile faded from her face.

"Unexpected," she told herself. "Not good at all." So, shaking her head, she walked across the porch, pushed open the door to her little home, and walked inside. It was going to be a very long night.

* * *

Loki was in the middle of what was _supposed_ to be a long nap when the door to his prison creaked open and a soldier stepped inside.

"Loki Laufeyson—" at the sound of his new surname, Loki's eyes opened. "Loki Laufeyson, the Allfather demands your presence in the throne room."

Loki sighed and rolled over on his cot. He squinted at the guard—he hadn't seen this one before. By the way he was shaking, he was a newcomer who had been bullied into guarding the infamous god by the more experienced soldiers. He wore traditional attire—golden armor that encased most of his body, a helmet on his head and a sword at his side.

Loki grinned. "Tell the Allfather that if he wishes to see me, he can come down here himself."

"My orders…"

Loki rolled his eyes and stood up in one fluid motion. "Your _orders_ and my wishes are two very different things, boy. Now, get out of my quarters before we both regret this exchange."

The guard cleared his throat. Three more guards entered the room. One of them stepped forward and tossed Loki a set of gauntlet-like handcuffs.

Loki pulled them from the air and held them by the tips of his fingers, as though they were something dirty. "Ah," he grimaced, "I thought so."

He sent a glare shooting towards the guards, who were standing at attention, waiting for him to acquiesce. Then, muttering under his breath, Loki slid the handcuffs onto his wrists. They snapped shut and began to emit a soft glow.

His eyes widened momentarily—he hadn't expected the cuffs to be magic dampers.

"This is new," he said, holding up his hands. "You flatter me." He stepped forward, and the guards moved to surround him. Each placed their hands on their sword-hilts.

"Better safe than sorry," Loki said, and laughed as the guards began to shepherd him down the hallway.

* * *

**A/N: Oh my goodness, what is this? Could it be…an update? Yep, I know. It's been forever. School decided to throw me a curveball and I was unable to update for a few months. Hope you guys like the chapter. I'm sorry it's so short, but I was really excited to start updating again. I promise there'll be more to come. **

**Reviews are much appreciated! **


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